Made to be Broken
by Ishkie
Summary: Oh, Fred, what have you gotten yourself into this time? The story of Fred and Hermione's relationship, starting at the end and going back to the beginning. Maybe rules aren't the only thing made to be broken.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Me no own Potter, only plot.**

**Prologue**

"Go away."

"No."

"Shoo."

"No."

"I dislike you."

"You aren't my favorite person either."

"As a matter of fact, I don't like you one bit."

"Me neither."

"I would go so far as to say I loathe you."

"Well I hate you."

"I think you're a silly, obnoxious prat."

"I think your hair looks funny."

"Well _you_ have the complexion of cottage cheese mixed with a well chopped, rotten tomato," she said. He was getting mad now.

"They're _called_ freckles, little Miss Know-it-all except when to shut up!" She turned bright red.

"I do too know when to shut up! I just don't want to!" she yelled, her brown eyes snapping.

"I think you're-"

"Don't finish that! And you say I'm the one that doesn't know when to shut up!"

"Well you're right, I don't! Which is why I'm going to say-"

"Oh no you don't…"

"Oh yes I d-"

"Don't!"

"Do!"

"Don't!"

"Marry me?" There was a silence. Both people looked at each other in shock.

_He…didn't, did he?_

_I didn't, did I?_

"We," Hermione started, looking at Fred square in the eye, "haven't even _dated_ in two years. We haven't seen each other since, well…you know. That was a long time ago. Then you expect to walk back into my life, get into a shouting match, and then _propose_? Are you bloody _mad_?"

"Yes, and then no. Well, maybe. Apparently. Yes on both counts then." Hermione gaped at him. Fred felt an awful lot like gaping at himself.

"Did you plan this?"

"No."

"Did you mean it?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to stand by it?"

"Yes." Fred mentally shook himself, shocked. He had meant to say no. Really, he had.

"No," Hermione said.

_Oh, good. She said it for me_._ Wait, no. What?_

"No what?" he asked out loud.

"I'm not going to marry you," she said slowly and clearly, as though he might not understand. At this point he couldn't blame her; he didn't seem to be able to understand much at the moment.

"Oh."

"Right." Hermione stood up, shot him one very confused glance, and walked out. Fred stayed sitting on the chair in the kitchen of the Burrow, still very shocked. And, as he sat, he remembered. Starting at the beginning.

**A/N: I'm thinking this will be different from any story I've written so far. Different writing style, more fluff. Anyhoo, both Fred and Hermione are going to remember (in their own points of view) how their relationship started, and then it'll come back to the present. After that, we'll just see what happens, won't we?**


	2. In the Beginning

**Chapter 1**

"Right." Hermione stood up, shot him one very confused glance, and walked out. Fred stayed sitting on the chair in the kitchen of the Burrow, still very shocked. And, as he sat, he remembered. Starting at the beginning.

* * *

It was a dark and stormy night. Well, actually, it was a rather clear spring afternoon, but Fred just liked starting his memories off like that. It made them more interesting. So, this dark and stormy night found Fred restocking boxes at the new Hogsmeade branch of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Just then, the bell above the door jingled and a certain bushy haired Gryffindor student came in.

Of course, it was in fact a spring afternoon on a Hogsmeade weekend, so it wasn't odd for Hermione to be there at all. But in Fred's dream, the thunder clapped and lightning lit the windows.

"Well hello there," he said, adding a box of Mime Malts on to the shelf. The thunder clapped again. Ominous.

"Damn him…" Hermione muttered, perusing the shelves. She gave no indication that she had even heard him at all.

"Damn who?" Fred asked, intrigued. The only people that usually got this kind of rise out of her were that Malfoy git and Ron. And anyone that got between her and her studies, of course.

"Ron," she muttered, peering closely at a box of Demonically Devious Devil Drops.

"Of course. Damn him," Fred agreed amiably. He went back to restocking shelves as Hermione chose a box of the candies.

"I'll take these," she told him, still looking around.

"Ah, a good choice. But perhaps you would be more pleased with one of our more expensive items?" Fred asked jokingly. Hermione huffed.

"This is not the time for jokes," she said, walking over to the counter and waiting for him to ring her up.

"Of course it isn't. That's why you're in a joke shop," he said in all solemnity. "May I inquire as to what the little bugger has done, perchance?" Fred pretended to look serious, but he knew he wasn't doing a very good job of it.

"You may," she said acidly, still waiting for him to give her the total so she could pay and leave.

"Er, consider it inquired," he said, making no move to take the sweets. He was, after all, very interested. That seemed to be her cue to let loose.

"It isn't enough that he doesn't do his own homework, of course it isn't! He just has to take mine, to _copy_, without even _asking_, not that I would let him anyway, mind you-" she said, getting slightly red in the face. Fred tuned out. It was about homework. Of course it wasn't anything interesting. He finally reached for the sweets and rang them up.

"Eleven sickles," he said when he thought she was done. "And you be sure to get the little blighter. I suggest those pink and purple stripey ones," he added, gesturing towards the box.

"Of course," Hermione said, giving him a smile. He thought it looked like a grateful, yet lost smile. Poor thing.

"And let me know how it turns out!" But Hermione had already left in to the rain, the thunder clapping again in her wake.

* * *

Hermione, a more grown up and graduated Hermione, sat down on a rock outside the Burrow, trying to get her thoughts in order. What had he been _thinking_? Of course, thinking had never been his strong suit, she thought with a disdainful sniff. No, she didn't mean that. But still. With another sniff, this one more melancholy, she remembered the day it had all began.

* * *

It was a clear, spring afternoon. It was Hogsmeade weekend, and yet only one of the trio was leaving the castle. Harry had received detention from Sprout; honestly, one simply _doesn't eat strange seeds_, and Ron was off avoiding her. She couldn't blame him for that, and was actually very pleased that she had some alone time. It would give her time to think before she acted, so she didn't do anything rash.

Then she saw the bright orange sign for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Her peaceful meditations vanished in a hurry as she thought of revenge. He deserved it, _really_. What a terrible thing to do. She opened the door, and the bell above her head jingled.

"Well hello there," one of the twins said, adding a box of undoubtedly fiendish somethings on to a lime-green shelf. Ominous.

"Damn him…" she couldn't help but mutter as she looked over the shelves. She was in no mood to get in to a conversation with one of the twins, not when revenge was so prevalent in her mind. It was such a strong urge, in fact, that Hermione wondered if they had put some sort of spell on the shop to evoke just these types of feelings. It wouldn't surprise her.

"Damn who?" the twin (she decided it was Fred, 50/50 chance, after all) asked, looking intrigued. He would be. He probably lived off of discord.

"Ron," she replied, looking at a box of some evil looking edibles that looked promising for her purposes. Well, as edible as anything in this store got.

"Of course. Damn him," Fred agreed amiably. Hermione wanted to laugh at this, but was too busy. Revenge. She picked up the sweets, deciding they would do. When she looked back up he was back to the shelves.

"I'll take these," she told him to get his attention. She looked around anyway, making sure she hadn't missed a better selection.

"Ah, a good choice. But perhaps you would be more pleased with one of our more expensive items?" Fred asked. How _incredibly _tacky. Hermione huffed.

"This is not the time for jokes," she said as she waited for him at the counter. Honestly, could they ever be serious?

"Of course it isn't. That's why you're in a joke shop," he said in all seriousness. Damn him, too. She wondered if it would be poetic justice to slip him one of his own treats. "May I inquire as to what the little bugger has done, perchance?" Fred asked, jarring her back to the present. His eyes were twinkling. How annoying. Honestly, it was even worse than Dumbledore.

"You may," she said briskly, tapping the box on the table. Maybe, just maybe, he would get the hint.

"Er, consider it inquired," he said, making no move to take the sweets. He actually looked interested. She became slightly unwound as tears threatened to fill her eyes. They wouldn't get so far as to actually fill her eyes and threaten to fall, she wasn't _that_ upset.

"It isn't enough that he doesn't do his own homework, of course it isn't! He just has to take mine, to _copy_, without even _asking_, not that I would let him anyway, mind you, but then he has to _lose_ it! I spent hours on that scroll! Of course I've thrown away my notes on the subject, my bag would get to heavy if I didn't clean it out, because I was _finished_, and then it's gone! I'll have to reconstruct the lot of it!" She finished, red in the face. He finally reached for the sweets and rang them up.

"Eleven sickles," he said. "And you be sure to get the little blighter. I suggest those pink and purple stripey ones," he added, gesturing towards the box. Well, that was nice of him. She wouldn't have had an idea of where to start. She had a feeling if her rubbish bin-bound notes didn't turn up she would have tossed the lot in his evening meal and hope he didn't notice.

"Of course," she said, giving him a smile. She hoped that it didn't look as angry as she felt; it wasn't Fred's fault. It was Ron's. Poor Ron.

She left before he could reply, walking in to the sweet spring air. With the box under her arm she felt wonderful; it was amazing how much the promise of revenge could cheer her up. And, of course, Fred had been a dear, listening to her and everything. How awfully nice of him.

**A/N: I love you reviewers. I really do. And see, my love manifests itself in the form of an update that doesn't take a couple months! Sorry if this doesn't live up to the prologue's expectations...sigh. Thank you so much AmberJupiter, and Damia (your review made me want to run around like a crazy person while grinning my head off), and MyPrecious188, and...all of you! Chocolate bars for all! **

**And just a clarification, this will basically tell the story of their relationship in first Fred's point of view, then Hermione's. Please tell me if it's too similiar, I really tried to make it sufficiently different. :-D (Also, sorry if this chapter has mistakes, but I didn't get this beta'd.) Last but not least, (as always), please review!**


	3. One Plus Two Equals Four

**Chapter 2**

Fred blinked, shaking his head to clear it. No, that wouldn't do. Too far back. He closed his eyes and remembered the time he first realised he _fancied_ her. Yes, that was more interesting.

ooo

It was a few months, or something, after seeing Hermione in the joke shop. It was the summer holidays for Hermione, and she was staying at the Burrow for a week. She was already starting on her course work for seventh year, which bugged Fred to no end. She didn't seem to know how to relax and have a good time.

"Well, if it isn't the lovely Miss Granger," he said as he sat next to her at the kitchen table.

"If I said it isn't will you leave me alone?" she asked, her fingers twitching spasmodically around her quill. Fred shook his head.

"No, because I can't keep this to myself any longer," he said, looking toward the ceiling. It had a funny pink stain on it, he noticed. He wondered why he hadn't seen it before, and went on to wonder where it came from. Maybe from that one experiment, with the…yes, that was it. Why hadn't that worked again? Too much hair of pepperfink? Something of the sort, surely. He should dig it up again, see if it still worked…

Hermione coughed, and Fred looked back down. She looked at him pointedly.

"Ah, right. Like I was saying, I can't keep this to myself any longer. Hermione Granger, you are-" he paused. Hermione looked at him with a guarded expression. The pause drew out longer, and longer. Hermione coughed again. "-I forgot," Fred finished anti-climactically. "I had a great line, but I lost it. I think it had something to do with your hair. See, it has this little curl in it kind of by your ear."

That was the moment. When he forgot what he was going to say and he noticed that little curl. Her hair was more bushy and wavy, but every once in awhile a piece would do a twist. He reached out, pulled it, and let it go. It sprang back in to place.

"Fred Weasley, stop playing with my hair!" Hermione said, looking like she was either amused or annoyed. It was hard to tell sometimes. She muttered something and shook her head.

Her head full of that _hair_. It wasn't gorgeous hair, stylish hair, or even _manageable_ hair, but it had a certain quality. Kind of…fluffy. Yes, certainly fluffy, like you could stuff a pillow with it. Not that he wanted a Hermione hair pillow; that would be disturbing and slightly gross.

Fred jerked back to the present realising that he hadn't heard a word she just said. He decided that it probably wasn't particularly important; she would have made sure she had his attention if it was. He decided to be as straightforward with his newfound feelings as possible about it.

"Hermione dunno-what-your-middle-name-is Granger, you have fluffy hair with a little curl in it, you're intelligent, and you're funny when you get mad, so would you like to go on a date?"

She looked at him. It wasn't a stare, or even a gape, more of an appraising look.

"Hm," she said.

ooo

Hermione stood up and started walking towards the village. She was still in shock that Fred had asked her to marry him. Did she really mean that much to him? Had she ever? As she walked she thought back to the time when he first made his feelings known.

ooo

It was two months after seeing Fred at that shop of his, and two months since Ron had got his comeuppance. He had apologised awfully quickly after he realised who kept tampering with his food.

Now Hermione was sitting at her favourite chair in the Burrow's kitchen, -it was painted bright blue with a comfort charm placed on it-, working on her homework for next year. It was never too early to start working, and this particular chapter in her Charms book fascinated her.

Normally Charms wasn't her favourite subject, she preferred the more difficult magics like Transfiguration, but this was positively captivating. Her fingers itched to try out the spell, but she wouldn't be of legal age for another two months or so. She contented herself with practicing the wrist movements under the table and muttering the incantations.

As she jotted down some notes someone sat next to her. She looked up, annoyed that someone would dare interrupt her work. Most Weasleys had learned better than that.

"Well, if it isn't the lovely Miss Granger." Oh. Fred. She picked up her quill again, hoping that he would take the hint and leave. He wasn't very good with these hints; subtlety obviously wasn't his strong point.

"If I said it isn't will you leave me alone?" she asked, gripping the quill more tightly to try and make the hint more obvious. He shook his head. No, of course he wouldn't leave. That would be too easy. Maybe a nice hex…curses, still not of age. Stupid wizarding laws.

"No, because I can't keep this to myself any longer," he said. Then he looked up. And kept looking up. Hermione glanced upwards too, but didn't notice anything unusual. There was a bit of a stain, but that wasn't particularly out of the ordinary in the Burrow; it was covered with the remnants of spells that went awry.

She coughed, hoping that _that_ was a good enough hint. The sudden noise seemed to jerk him out of his train of thought. That is, of course, if he had been thinking. She had a sinking suspicion that the Weasley twins shared a brain, and only one could think at a time…no, she didn't think that at all, that was just her annoyance at getting interrupted talking. The twins were actually quite intelligent. She shook her head to clear it slightly, and looked at him pointedly.

"Ah, right. Like I was saying, I can't keep this to myself any longer. Hermione Granger, you are-" he paused. Hermione took a deep breath. She braced herself, thinking that this was probably going to be one of those 'know-it-all bookworm' comments. They didn't bug her as much as they used to, but she thought they were dreadfully unoriginal.

As she sat there, the pause drawing out longer and longer, Hermione absentmindedly admired Fred. A girl was surely allowed to admire the scenery, after all. He was slightly muscled, -the remnants of his Quidditch days, she supposed-, but had gotten slightly paler and more lean after he left Hogwarts. He probably didn't play as much Quidditch now that he was working full time. At least he wasn't too dratted thin, like those Seekers. She couldn't imagine one of them being overly muscled, Diggory having been an exception; the only work out they got on the field was holding on to their brooms and snatching at the air.

Hermione coughed again, as much to focus herself as it was for Fred. She wanted to hear what he had to say. "-I forgot," Fred finished. Oh. Well, no surprises there. "I had a great line, but I lost it. I think it had something to do with your hair. See, it has this little curl in it kind of by your ear."

Hermione fought the urge to smile; there was something infectious about Fred's attitude. It was nice to know that someone in this hectic world would stop and notice the little things, even if those little things happened to be curly bits of hair. Of course, she had always known thatthe twins had that quality, but there was something nice about being reminded of it. Then he reached out, pulled the piece of hair back, and let it go.

"Fred Weasley, stop playing with my hair!" she said, still amused. He did, looking at her with a sort of hazy expression. She continued.

"Well, I don't particularly mind, but it might get even more unmanageable. You see, my hair can't decide whether it's wavy or curly, so it just puffs out a bit. Terribly annoying; I wish it would just pick something and go with it. It's worse when it curls more, everything frizzes out more then; it does that especially after a light rain." Hermione realised that she was babbling, but Fred didn't seem to mind. He almost looked interested. She opened her mouth, about to tell him something else about her hair (she hadn't decided what yet) when he spoke.

"Hermione dunno-what-your-middle-name-is Granger, you have fluffy hair with a little curl in it, you're intelligent, and you're funny when you get mad, so would you like to go on a date?"

Hermione looked at him. She was surprised; she hadn't expected that at all. It certainly hadn't been on her list of things to think about. Then again, she wasn't completely averse to the idea.

"Hm," she said. "Alright then."

* * *

**A/N: Again, I won't bother with excuses. I don't think this was my best work, but I wanted to crank something out before I left for the other side of the country, which I'mdoing in about an hour.When I get back I'll have a few days before I leave again, and I'll try and catch up all the chapters of Glitternewts. I'll alsowork at getting more chapters done. Well, review please?**


End file.
